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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29519967">Beauty and the Bandit</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeloxVoid/pseuds/VeloxVoid'>VeloxVoid</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>RWBY</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adventure &amp; Romance, Alternate Universe - Historical, Ballroom Dancing, Bandits &amp; Outlaws, Denial of Feelings, Exploration, F/F, Falling In Love, Firsts, Kidnapping, Self-Discovery, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn, Slow Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 16:46:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,121</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29519967</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeloxVoid/pseuds/VeloxVoid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A historical AU.</p>
<p>Trapped beneath the baleful gaze of her father’s watchful eye, Weiss longs for freedom. In an Atlas crawling with guards to protect her, she turns to secrecy, sneaking away into the depths of the city. Criminals lie in wait, and Weiss finds herself kidnapped by a lawless group.</p>
<p>Yet suddenly, just as tragedy is about to strike, Weiss is whisked away, saved by a mysterious bandit — an ambivalent force of neither good nor bad. The two journey home together, with Weiss left to wonder about the identity of her saviour.</p>
<p>Mysterious Blake Belladonna turns Weiss’s world upside-down, allowing her to discover love, intimacy, and a lot about herself along the way.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Blake Belladonna/Weiss Schnee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Beauty and the Bandit</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Apologies for all the exposition. Hopefully it helps to set up the Later Events &gt;:)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>The bandit’s hand was warm. As the brisk winter air whipped at Weiss’s face with its biting cold, rushing past her ears to freeze her delicate skin, all she could focus on was the heat of the skin against hers.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She sprinted at her saviour’s side, her muscles burning and heart working hard to pump blood through her body. But was her breathlessness merely from the running alone? Or did her blood pound through her veins for some other reason — because of the silence, the scent, the </span>
    <span>heat</span>
    <span> of the stranger she held so desperately onto?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The bandit’s musky, floral scent was powerful over the rain-swollen air, with a black, cat-eared mask pinned over her eyes to obscure her face and dark, thick ringlets of hair flowing behind her in the wind…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Who was this stranger? And why was the moment’s adrenaline overridden by butterflies twitching in the pit of Weiss’s stomach as they fled through the water-logged fields together?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She didn’t know. She didn’t even know if she could </span>
    <span>trust</span>
    <span> this person — this bandit. Perhaps it was best if she didn’t find out. Instead, she succumbed to the moment; gripping the stranger’s hot fingers tight in her own and running faster by her side.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="u">
    <em>
      <strong>the previous day</strong>
    </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Looking into the mirror, Weiss felt a scowl curl her lips as she gazed upon the dress she wore. It was nice enough, she supposed — pure white with light blue accents, with skirts that fell to the contour of her hourglass silhouette. At least her mother hadn’t dressed her in one of those hideous bulbous ball gowns that flared out at the hips, making her look like a flashback from the previous century. At least she had </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be thankful for.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s fashion, dear,” her mother had said upon delivering her dress, but had given in all the same. When the handmaids had helped lace Weiss into her corset, draping her in the skirts and fussing over her hair, she had been greeted with the sight of a slim-fitting dress fitting her rather gracefully. After dismissing her maids, she was left alone once more. She gazed into the mirror, satisfied with the dress’s cut, yet still scowling</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This ball, she knew, would be a drag. Everything in her sad, small little life was a drag.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The bustling city of Atlas was her father’s domain. He prided himself on his unparalleled guard force — a guard fit to rival the security and protection of even the esteemed city of Mantle and its reign long-passed. Nothing happened inside Atlas without Jacques Schee hearing about it. No drama, no gossip, no interesting goings-on. No fights outside the inns from drunken youths, no ruffians getting snatched up by guards and sent to prison without trial. Not even any corrupt nobles plotting about some boring trade scam, only to be caught and disgrace their family name. No, there was nothing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Every day the same. No variation, no surprises. Nothing for Weiss to look forward to. This ball would be like the ten others she’d already attended this year, she could sense it. Weiss Schnee would sit at the head of the dais besides her father, nestled between Winter and Whitley, and she would watch the rich families dance, supervised by the eagle-eyed guards.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was best to just get the wretched thing over with. Weiss straightened out her skirts once more, adjusted her long white braid to lie across one shoulder, and left her bedchambers to join the rest of her family in the foyer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She, her siblings, and their mother were all escorted into a carriage and taken from the Schnee family manor, out to the city hall at the centre of Atlas. A rebuilt city hall, new and improved after Mr. Schnee took over as mayor — as the capital’s new ruler.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Weiss took a nap during their journey, awoken rudely by a prod in the arm from Winter. Together, the family was thrust out into the brisk evening air, walked into the city hall by yet another plethora of armed guards. It was all so much, Weiss thought, frowning once more. All of this fuss, and for what? For her family and Atlas’s wealthy to dance and eat and socialise? What a snore.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, the city hall’s ballroom looked the same as it had the last ten times; wooden floor polished to gleaming, countless tables set up with plates and cutlery and goblets, a wide expanse of empty space reserved for dancing behind which the band played sweet classical melodies. And, of course, the dais. The platform at the head of the room, overlooking each of the other tables, upon which her father already sat on his mahogany-carved chair at its centre.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sight of him made Weiss shudder. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ah, loving, caring Father.</span>
  </em>
  <span> His cold pale eyes and stern, unfeeling expression. The man she swore scarcely knew her name — who saw his children as nothing more than heirs to raise in his image rather than actual kin to love and cherish.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The rest of the Weiss family were greeted by the other guests, babbling over the music with their snooty accents and bulbous last-century ball gowns. Weiss had to stifle her chuckles at the look of them. She took her seat, waited as the ballroom filled up, and settled down into the comfortable corner of her mind she occupied when she was bored.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Adventure. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Oh, how she longed for it. The storybooks of her childhood always told of it, of daring knights and rebellious princesses. People exploring far-off lands, their futures their own to forge. Weiss was eighteen years old now, old enough to choose her own path — her own fate — but instead she was thrall to her boring father and his boring city.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thus, she dreamed. She sat in her seat with her back straight as her mother had taught her, taking delicate sips of the fruit punch served to the younger guests (which rather offended her; she was an adult, and should have been drinking wine with the other adults). Like this, however, sitting comfortably with a full goblet of punch, she let her mind wander.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Perhaps one day she could escape, like the heroes in the tales of old. Maybe, in the distant future, she could leave Atlas for good; could forgo her old identity and take up a new life, away from the petty luxuries of her family’s luscious lives. She could traverse uncharted lands, or delve deeper into pre-existing ones. Maybe one day the secrets the world had to offer would be hers to explore.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Or maybe… the day of her escape could be now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What was stopping her? She could slip away from the ball never to be seen again. When would her next chance be, to pull off something like this? There was no way she could escape from her own home, but from the city hall…?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This could be Weiss's chance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That startled her — made her sit up a little straighter and widen her droopy eyelids. Winter by her side chuckled at her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s gotten into you so suddenly?” she asked with a little smile, raising one dark eyebrow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“N-nothing,” Weiss stuttered back. But her mind was reeling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, if ever there was a time to escape, it was now. Her father preoccupied, her family preoccupied, the guards standing sentinel around every corner, all preoccupied… Surely nobody would notice a small, stealthy young woman slinking out of this place? And if they did, she could simply use the excuse of needing some air and privacy. Could a guard turn down the request of one of Jacques Schnee’s prized daughters? If she made enough of a fuss, now that she thought about it, she could probably get away with many things.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She supposed she would simply have to find out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stretching her limbs, Weiss let out a long sigh. “I’m just going to visit the bathroom,” she said, trying to sound as natural as possible, keeping the bored, tired tone to her voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t be too long,” Winter told her. “The dancing is about to start soon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Weiss stood from her plush cushioned chair, looking down at her sister. A sort of sadness overcame her; Winter had always been a caring sister. Yet, Weiss supposed, steeling herself and holding her head high, Winter cared more about their father. She was too loyal — too focused on upholding his reign, obeying his rules. Weiss wanted as far away from that as possible.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t you worry about me,” she told Winter, giving her a reassuring smile before turning. No, Winter should not worry about her. Weiss would be just fine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keeping her chin up, Weiss descended from the dais, weaving between tables and chairs and the merry guests of the Atlas Ball. She received many greetings on her way, cries of “Weiss, how are you enjoying it!?” and having the younger children approach to coo over her dress.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At last, after escaping, she found herself by the ballroom’s doors, where two of her father’s countless guards blocked her way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“May I ask your business, Lady Weiss?” one asked, cocking her helmeted head with narrowed eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Forgive me, I must use the bathroom,” Weiss responded, keeping her tone cool and powerful. The tone she was supposed to take with people lower than her, as her father had taught her so well.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But of course.” And the guard allowed her passage.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Huh,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Weiss thought, trying to quell the pounding to her heart.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Easier than anticipated.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She wound through the city hall’s familiar corridors, past more silent, sentinel guards, until she reached the doors into the women’s bathroom. The room beyond was grand. It held decorated sinks, offered bouquets of flowers to keep the scents fresh, and had cubicle walls painted with grandiose golden patterns.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Most of all, however, it was empty. Much to Weiss’s delight. She closed the room’s doors behind her and leant against them, letting out a shaky breath. The beating to her heart was frantic, her blood pounding hard through her veins.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This was ridiculous. This was the plan of a silly, immature little girl who didn’t appreciate the luxuries of life handed to her at birth. Yet the adventure that those storybooks told of — unexplored lands, escaping the grips of oppressive relatives — called to her. She wanted her own future so </span>
  <em>
    <span>badly.</span>
  </em>
  <span> A future just for her, not for anybody else. Not for her father.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>So, screw it.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Weiss Schnee took another deep breath and set her sights on the tiny frosted window that sat above the sinks. It was square, and perhaps only just large enough for her to worm her way through. Approaching the sinks, she pushed it open and allowed the brisk chill of the Atlas night to wash over her. It made her feel awake — alert. She stood upon one of the sinks, cautious of how it creaked beneath her full body weight, and peered out of the window.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The street below — one of the side streets running along the city hall — was poorly lit, but the floor was only around six feet below her. An easy jump to make. With some manoeuvering, Weiss slid through the window legs-first and fell gracefully to her feet, thankful she’d decided to wear flat shoes instead of heels.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The slamming sound of her shoes hitting the floor was disconcertingly loud; it echoed in her ears, bouncing against the buildings she stood between. She grit her teeth, muscles tense — had any of the guards at the front of the building heard that sound, she would be found out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But nothing came. After a minute, Weiss untensed. No guards were coming, and none were to be seen. She looked around herself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A dark side-street, the only light being from the moon overhead and the warm amber ambience from the road’s lamps at the front of the city hall. The bricks beneath her feet glistened with moisture from the midday rain, and Weiss shuddered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The night’s cold air pressed in all around her; she was underdressed, she realised suddenly. Wearing only her ball gown, long-sleeved though it may have been, the wintry breeze bit into her skin and made her shiver, her teeth chattering. The sound of that wind was haunting, howling down the side-street like a pack of ravenous wolves.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was cold. The hairs all over her body began to stand on end, and she wrapped her arms around herself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But, she thought to herself, at least she was free. That made a smile flicker across her lips. She was free, nobody was after her, and the whole of Atlas was at her disposal.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Weiss took off down the alleyway towards the back of the city hall, its shadows and darkness far more inviting than the lamplight. Lamplight meant guards, and guards meant getting dragged away back to her old sad, stifled existence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The alley soon opened up into a back street, one that was darkened and empty. If she remembered correctly, the streets behind city hall were residential, rows of small houses reserved for Atlas’s guards. That seemed to be the case; the street was unguarded, with its countless dark hovels all shuttered and quiet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Should she turn left, or right? Weiss’s heart raced, her smile etched deep into her face; the possibilities were endless! She turned left and ran, her instincts begging her to let out a giggle into the night.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Freedom.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Finally being able to run, unburdened, knowing the entirety of the world beyond awaited her. She didn’t know what she’d do — find a forest and make a little home in there like the princess from her favourite childhood book story? Find a group of like-minded individuals with whom she could explore? Find some sort of hidden treasure of the world? It was all so childish. But Weiss found she didn’t even care anymore. Her childhood had been filled with politics and business and finding a suitable family to be betrothed to; she deserved some fun. A </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> childhood.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yet as her legs became tangled in the tight underskirts of her dress, almost threatening to trip her over, Weiss encountered her first obstacle. This dress was too restrictive. She slowed to a halt and grasped hold of the fabric of her skirts where they hung above her knees, digging her nails into the flimsy material. Silk tore easily; that she knew from many a mistake during her sewing lessons.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Weiss took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Was she really about to do this? Being out in the empty streets of Atlas was one thing, but to tear the beautifully-crafted dress her tailor had spent weeks on was something else. It made her current situation </span>
  <em>
    <span>real;</span>
  </em>
  <span> a commitment that she was leaving behind her comfortable old life for good.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mustering all her strength, Weiss pulled on the skirts, her nails shredding a hole which she then began to tear. The sound pained her ears: the high-pitched sound of tearing silk which never ceased to instil dread in her. That sound would mean a scolding from her mother, a tut from her sewing teacher, a pitiful scoff from Winter and, later, the wrath of her father.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But it was done. A tear the length of her forearm had been cut into the silk, leaving the cotton underskirt beneath to show through. That material — thick, warm cotton — would be harder to tear. Tearing cotton would be… perhaps impossible without something sharp. Yet she had no scissors. No knife. She had nothing but the clothes on her back, which she had just begun to destroy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh dear, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Weiss thought. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This was a mistake.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No matter. She pressed onwards, ripping more jagged lines into her silk skirt until the bottom of the silk skirt fell to the floor, leaving what remained hanging at her mid-thigh, the cotton underskirt beneath exposed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It looked terrible. It was a mess, and a pang of regret tugged at Weiss’s heartstrings as she looked at the wispy edges, ruined and ugly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What was she doing? This was a nonsensical idea, fuelled by a childish surge of rebellion that she should have learned to quell a long time ago—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, hello there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Each of Weiss’s muscles leapt, and she spun around to where the voice had sounded behind her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Somebody stood mere inches away from her, garbed all in black. They wore multiple belts all holding some sort of sheathed weapon, with pouches and pockets littering their strange black uniform. A black handkerchief covered their nose and mouth, while a hood obscured their hair; all that was visible to Weiss were two gleaming eyes, seeming to glint white beneath the moonlight. Behind them stood four more people, dressed all the same, blending into the shadows of the night.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then, Weiss realised. These people were criminals. Fear began to settle in the pit of her stomach.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have we found ourselves a young noble, lost in the cold?” Their voice was strange, words mispronounced and hitched with the deep accent of old Atlas. The accent of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mantle.</span>
  </em>
  <span> These were people Weiss’s father had tried to purge his city of — the baseborn, loyal to Mantle, that he had relocated to settlements outside of Atlas’s walls. “Tearing up her pretty little dress, is she?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their garb, their mocking tone, the way five of them all closed in on her now, making her slowly back away down the street… Weiss tried desperately to calm the panic rising within her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you want from me?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady. She stood straight — strong — clenching her hands into fists.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The closest stranger merely laughed at her, almost as though they pitied her. “Lost little noble’s got an attitude!” They stood up straighter, towering a few inches over Weiss’s head. They held out one arm, made a beckoning gesture with their fingers, and Weiss was grabbed suddenly from behind</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Panic spurred her to motion. She flailed her limbs, kicking to no avail and clawing only to find thin air between her fingers. She let out the shrillest scream she could muster, her lips forming the word </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘help!’</span>
  </em>
  <span> and feeling her throat begin to tear, before something warm and soft was pressed into her face, cutting off the sound.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sucked in breaths as more people grabbed her, restraining her arms, but a scent hit the back of her nostrils hard; something sharp and chemical that fogged her mind, made her panic lull, and made her slip down and down into the comforting embrace of slumber.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Weiss’s world was black. Before she fell, the classical music of Atlas’s ballroom sounded gently in her ears, while the taste of the sweet fruit punch played around her tongue.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I hope you've enjoyed so far — I'm <a href="https://twitter.com/VeloxVoid">VeloxVoid</a> on Twitter if you'd like to follow me for more :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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